Nothing Like the Movies
: Chapter 8

Liz

I glanced up at Clark, and he wasn’t hiding it.

He had zero idea what I was doing.

“You get very jealous,” I said to Clark in a cheesy singsong voice, trying to transmit my thoughts with my eyes as I breezily said, “Even though you think you don’t.”

His eyebrows screwed together and he looked confused.

Dammit.

“Oh, you guys are together?” Wes asked—at least someone got it—and he didn’t look like he cared at all. He asked it the way someone would ask Do you like the cheese dip?, and something about that stung.

Even though I was the one who didn’t care anymore.

I was the one who was over it.

Dammit.

“Yes,” I said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “We are.”

“We are?” Clark asked, still confused, and then it was almost comical (if it wasn’t so horrifying) when his eyes got huge, and he said, “Yes, we are. Dating. We are dating and I am her boyfriend.”

Oh, for God’s sake. I cleared my throat and said around a ridiculous smile, “It’s new, so, uh…”

“New?” Wes tilted his head and looked at me like I’d just sprouted antlers.

Oh my God, how can this be happening?!

I looked at Wes’s stupid face, his beautiful, awful, terrible face, and just couldn’t believe he was actually there.

That he was there, and I was doing that.

“Because we’ve been friends for so long,” I said in an oddly high-pitched voice that reminded me of Ross Geller when he said I’m fine in response to Rachel and Joey kissing. “You know how that can be, right?”

So much for pretending you remember nothing, you idiot.

That made something change in his face, and my eyes were pulled to that hard jaw as it clenched and unclenched before he said, “I do.”

Good.

“I still can’t believe it,” Clark said, raising a hand and pinching my cheek while grinning at me so stupidly that I would’ve laughed if—again—the situation wasn’t so horrifying. “One day we were buddies, and the next she was all ‘Clarkie, I have feelings,’ and I was like ‘holy crap, Lizard, I have feelings too,’ and now we’re together. It’s, like, really surreal.”

“So surreal,” I agreed, giving a little laugh while wanting to kick Clark’s obnoxious ass. “A whirlwind, really.”

“It is like a whirlwind,” Clark said way too loudly, smiling and pinching my cheek again, followed by two little pats.

I removed his huge hand from my face—the jackass—and said, “Yeah, so that’s the sitch.”

The sitch? What are you, in middle school, you moron?

“Wow.” Wes looked from my face to Clark’s, and then he gave me a half smile. Said in that teasing tone of his, “Well, you look great together. I mean, the whole she-only-reaches-his-armpit thing never misses. You guys are adorable.”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding emphatically like a lunatic while wanting to throat punch him.

You guys are adorable? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Thanks,” Clark agreed, obliviously nodding along.

“Well,” Wes said, looking entirely unfazed by the situation. He scratched his eyebrow and said, “Listen, my friends are probably wondering where I disappeared to, so I should go replace them—”

“Yeah,” I interrupted, nodding once more. “Good seeing you again.”

“Oh, you too, Lib,” he said, giving me a wink before turning and walking away. A wink, oh my God. I watched him cross the balcony and duck inside, looking like just another college dude at a party, and I had no idea why I felt so pissed.

For some reason, I wanted to drag him back outside and force him to, like, watch me kiss Clark with obnoxious tongue or something, anything to make him upset.

He wasn’t allowed to be unaffected by me, because that was supposed to be my role.

DAMMIT.

“What the hell was that?” Clark stepped in front of me so I had to look at him. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Yes,” I groaned, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “Obviously I’ve completely lost it.”

“Please explain yourself. And here,” he said, holding out his cup. “Drink this. You look like you need it.”

“I do. What is it—who cares,” I mumbled, taking his cup and slamming the contents.

Noooooo not whiskey my throat is on fire.

“Jesus, Liz,” Clark said, half laughing as I handed back the cup and tried not to gag. “That’s fifty-dollar bourbon.”

“It’s awful,” I gasped, my eyes literally watering. “Oh my God.”

He walked over to the other side of the balcony, grabbed a bottle of water out of one of the coolers, then brought it over. “So now. What is the story with you and Wes Bennett—other than the fact that you were ‘childhood buddies,’ and why the hell did you tell him I’m your boyfriend?”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the railing, wanting to make sure no one could overhear us. I uncapped the water and took a long drink before I explained, “It’s complicated, but basically we dated in high school and I haven’t seen him since things ended. And let’s just say it was a little… messy.”

“A little, my ass. It looked like a lottle,” Clark said.

“It’s ancient history and I’m totally over it.” That was accurate. Succinct and emotionless, without a tinge of the rage that’d sparked in my center when he’d said Is that what we were?

Yes, I definitely still hated him.

The lyrics from “Congrats” whispered through my psyche—

You broke my fucking heart

You tore my world apart

“But he wanted to go somewhere and catch up,” I said, shaking my head and gritting my teeth as I spiraled. “And I just couldn’t. I mean, why would he even suggest that? How could he think I’d want to—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted, giving me a sympathetic smile. “Exes are weird like that, and I totally get it.”

“You do?” I said, surprised because I didn’t even get it myself. I’d spent years in Wes Bennett detox, and I was a healed woman. His presence—holy shit how can he be a student here now?!—should be an annoyance at most.

So why had seeing him felt akin to getting an electric shock?

And not in a good way at all.

Clark took out his ponytail and finger-combed his curly blond hair. “Here’s the thing, though. Fake-boyfriending me is a terrible idea.”

“Why?” My eyes kept roaming behind him, looking to see if Wes had come back out. “If he thinks I have a boyfriend who is seven feet tall and freakishly strong, he’ll know I’m over him and he’ll probably steer clear.”

But even as I said it, I knew that if Wes wanted to mess with me, nothing would stop him.

But surely he didn’t want that.

“But do you really want everyone to think we’re dating? Think about it. We live together and work together. If this gets out, people are going to think it’s juicy as hell,” he said, and he wasn’t wrong.

But as I sifted through the pros and cons, there wasn’t really anything that seemed awful about this idea. I didn’t date—at all—so people thinking I was Clark’s girlfriend wasn’t going to mess up anything on that front.

In fact, it’d be nice for everyone to think that a massive rugby player was my boyfriend. For once I wouldn’t have to come up with excuses as to why I had zero interest in dating anyone, ever.

Although.

“God, I’m so selfish,” I said, realizing the sacrifice it would be for Clark. “This would totally screw up your love life if people thought you had a girlfriend, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not worried about that,” he said, shrugging. “I mean, I’m assuming we will fake–break up in the near future, once you know how to handle yourself around him.”

“Yeah, for sure we will,” I said, wondering if I’d ever know how to do that.

Because I never would’ve guessed that at this point in my life, almost two years later, I’d feel so shaken by his presence. I would’ve expected a polite reunion, with a few lingering unkind thoughts about him that would disappear the moment he walked away.

That was how it was supposed to go.

Whyyyyyyyy aren’t I numb by now?

“Okay, so maybe this,” Clark said, getting that patented Clark grin on his face that meant he was all in. “Let’s go with what we just said to Bennett, that this is brand-new. Like, we just discovered we have feelings, and we’re just starting to explore it. That way when people act like he’s wrong, like, no, they’re just friends, it makes sense why no one knows.”

“See, this is why I want to date you,” I teased, feeling a little better. “You think of all the details.”

“Right? I’m awesome,” he said around a smile, pinching my cheek again. “This is going to be kind of fun.”

“I will stab you,” I said as I smacked his hand, laughing in spite of everything, “if you don’t keep your enormous pie-plate hands off my face. Got it?”

“Oh, Lizard,” he said, giving in to a loud laugh. “You’re adorable when you huff. Let me text our roommates so they know the plan, and then let’s go get you another drink, girlfriend of mine.”

We went back into the party after he sent Campbell and Leo the message, and I was glad I had a buzz when he grabbed my hand and led me into the kitchen. Because there was Wes, sitting on the stool where I ate my yogurt every morning, grinning and playing cards with his friends.

Who were actually my friends.

Who’d actually been my friends first.

And he was in my kitchen, what the hell?!

I felt like I needed a time-out to get my head right because it was all too much.

“Is Buxxie actually going to hang with us?” Wade teased, his hair a mess since he’d finally shed the stupid hat. He had a handful of cards in his fists and a few cans of beer in front of him as he grinned and said, “I thought you only did music at your parties.”

“I begged,” Clark said, pulling me closer and wrapping his arm around my shoulders, “and Lizzie was nice enough to choose me over music. At least for a solid five minutes.”

“Lizzie?” Mickey, who was at the other end of the table, said. “What the hell is this ‘Lizzie’ shit? Are we allowed to call you that now? Because I recall it being expressly forbidden.”

I really wanted the attention to land on anyone else, because I could feel Wes watching this stupid interaction. Wes, the only person to ever seriously call me Lizzie. I pushed my lips into a smile and said, “Well—”

“Only I can call her that,” Clark interrupted, his voice loudly obnoxious.

Oh God. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Wes’s face.

Wade’s eyes narrowed. “Did I miss something? Are you guys a thing now?”

I sucked at lying, so I just shrugged and smiled. “Maybe.”

“Oh my God, little Buxxie’s blushing,” Mickey said, and I knew blushing had to be an understatement because it felt like my skin was on fire. “This is adorable.”

“Shut it,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m going back to the music.”

“Oh, come on, baby,” Clark teased. “Don’t go yet.”

That made Mick laugh, and I wriggled out from under Clark’s arm as the moment passed and the card game moved on. I turned to escape to the living room, to get away from the kitchen and lose myself in the music, but not before making eye contact with Wes.

Whose dark eyes were intensely on me, like he was searching for something.

That face was impossible to read as I held his gaze like a deer in the headlights, unsure what was passing between us. I swallowed and tucked my hair behind my ears—get it together, Buxbaum—and it felt like my knees might literally give out as I exited the kitchen as quickly as possible.

What. The. Hell. Universe?